


Silver Tongued

by froggy (therealfroggy)



Category: Prison Break
Genre: M/M, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-26
Updated: 2012-12-26
Packaged: 2017-11-22 13:18:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/610248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/therealfroggy/pseuds/froggy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>T-Bag has a sharp tongue...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Silver Tongued

This was a thing they did; fucking each other like animals in the heat of the Sicilian almost all-year summer. Abruzzi would throw T-Bag on the bed and hold him down while he fucked away the frustration of dealing with the crime syndicates, or T-Bag would tease and rile Abruzzi up until the taller man slowly rolled onto his stomach and let T-Bag fuck him.

It was just something they did; they didn't talk about it and they didn't get involved in anything else where each other were concerned. Abruzzi ran the local mob and T-Bag sneaked around the area doing other things, as long as he was back in time for dinner and sex.

So when T-Bag one night, having teased Abruzzi into rolling over, didn't immediately reach for the lube in the bedside drawer, Abruzzi became suspicious.

“Theodore,” he warned. “Don't start.”

“I ain't startin' anythin',” T-Bag protested, backing down until he was straddling Abruzzi's calves. “Just tryin' to have a lil' fun, 's all.”

Abruzzi rolled his eyes. The Alabamian always had to make things complicated. He couldn't just fuck and get over with it like normal people.

“'S just too warm to be fuckin' anyone,” drawled T-Bag. “I was thinkin', this is way easier on me.”

Abruzzi didn't bother to protest; he could care less how the other man got off as long as he didn't forget the mobster in the process. Getting naked in the same room as his old arch nemesis deserved some sort of reward, after all.

Apparently that was just what T-Bag had in mind, too, for he immediately dipped his head and began nuzzling into the skin of Abruzzi's ass.

The taller man lay still. He didn't know what, exactly, the Alabamian had in mind, but he could make an educated guess. They hadn't done it before; not surprising, really, since they'd never done anything together but dig, fight and fuck.

And then all his breath left him in a hurried gush as T-Bag's tongue slid inside him. No preliminaries, no introduction to what was to come, just a thrust and there it was. Filling Abruzzi in a way fundamentally different from the other's cock or fingers.

“Theodore,” he croaked, surprised. “What the fuck...”

He didn't finish; he needed his breath to make soft noises of pleasure as T-Bag began flicking his tongue, thrusting repeatedly, teeth and lips anchoring his mouth to Abruzzi's skin. He groaned and buried his face in the pillow, too distracted by the way his every bone liquefied and melted into the mattress as T-Bag kept... doing that.

Abruzzi gave a primal sound of desire, letting his hips buck against T-Bag's mouth. “Fuck yes,” he grunted, clutching the pillow. If the Alabamian didn't want to fuck him, fine. This was a thousand times better anyway. As his hips slowly moved, his cock was rubbed against the sheets and it felt... incredible.

John Abruzzi came undone underneath the Alabamian, growling loudly as his erection and T-Bag's tongue in his ass sent alternating waves of warm pleasure through him. He ground his hips into the mattress, back onto T-Bag's face, and came.

“You done already?” T-Bag taunted, a grin in his voice. “Now how 'bout helpin' me out, boss?”

Abruzzi snorted with as much contempt he could muster, what with his body still recovering from a shuddering climax. “God helps those who help themselves.”

It was T-Bag's turn to roll his eyes. “Ya always gotta be bringin' religion into it, John? I ain't big on the whole preacher routine.”

Abruzzi shrugged, but closed a hand around T-Bag's straining erection nonetheless. The murderer placed his own hand on top, controlling the pace until he was coming with a strangled groan. White, slick heat spilled over their hands and Abruzzi grimaced.

“Just wipe it on the sheet,” T-Bag panted, rolling to his back on the bed. “'S not like ya haven't soiled it already.”

Abruzzi did, and later, he had the maid change it. She quickly drew a cross over herself with her fingers and was muttering about sins and Hell and God until she finished for the day.

Abruzzi laughed. T-Bag usually had that effect on Christian folk, who comprised most of Abruzzi's household staff. It was one of the few reasons he kept the man around; even with only one functioning hand, he was good for a little entertainment.

Not to mention, he had a sharp tongue.


End file.
